


Love burns hotter than coffee

by Spacegaywritings



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (nohting explicit at all), Abandonment, Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bad Ending, Barista Virgil, Burning, Crying, Emetophobia, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Financial Issues, Food Issues, Food mention, Intolerance, M/M, Mentions of Sex and Nudity, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Panic, Self-Hatred, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Toxic Relationships, ambiguous soulmates, ghosting, internalised homophibia, isomnia, not the cool funny burn like slow burns but actual burns that hurt, patton and logan are roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22163890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacegaywritings/pseuds/Spacegaywritings
Summary: angsty Soulmate AU with AnalogicalVirgil is a student working his butt off to finance himself and his girlfriend Logan through life. Life sends him Logan, the costumer -who does not believe in soulmates- to mess things up.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pessimisticvirtuoso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pessimisticvirtuoso/gifts).



> I know the 'original' title is wishception but that was kinda a shit-title i gave it when i was high on my own laughter. It was intended to be the actual title.
> 
> she/her and it/its pronouns are used for mentioned (side)characters. Everyone is either a cis male or an AMAB (of the interacting people!).  
> It is still super angsty and has no nice ending so you are warned! read at your own risk!

''That is 3.25, please'', the barista spoke as he rung the cash register and accepted the money that was pushed towards his hand. He took the bill and quickly grabbed the fitting change so the transaction would finally be over with.

Once he gave the money back, the coffee was already made by one of his co-workers and he received the cup. He handed it over to the costumer.   
Polite words were exchanged and Virgil nodded with a service smile on his lips.   
Empty, rosy, void of emotions. 

He brushed his fingers through his purple hair and sighed. He turned away from the register and faced the inside of his work place.  
The coffee machine was cleaning itself in-between and his colleague was running a rag over a few wet stains around the sink. The metal cover was supposed to be shining and gleaming in the low lights of the small cafe.

Technically, the small space was supposed to feel homely and safe. The narrow space saved money and brought people together, made them socialise and feel at home—a place where it was common to share space, bump into one another and just be close to other people. All Virgil saw was people forced together, made to interact with personal space being a rare commodity—something Virgil had so little of and wanted more than anything.  
The dim lighting was supposed to be inviting instead of sleep-inducing.  
The sweet smell was supposed to sugar-coat the pressure of passing time and encourage customers to shove more empty calories down their throat.  
Dark furniture and opaque, warm colours welcomed and embraced but Virgil just felt repelled. He didn’t deserve to be embraced—and he obviously wasn’t ready to be comforted or loved.

He was not worth the auburn couches, the warm blankets or the colourful pillows. Virgil had never done anything to earn the feeling of warm tea easing the pain in his shaking fingers. He did not qualify to smell the spicy sweet scent of a drink made for him in exchange for money he didn’t have.

He prepared to rush out on a quick smoke break but at the ringing of a bell, he looked up from his shoes.  
The door had opened.

The door swung shut, letting a weak blast of icy air that cut into the warm room.   
It was so hot.  
Virgil’s counter was too far back to let him smell the snow, the cold or the fresh oxygen but he could see some guests shiver for a moment, their noses powdered with the sweet frost of outside.  
It might have been cold and it might have been cruel, but at least it wasn’t a trap for idiots. 

He dragged himself back to the register, his heavy black and brown boots made his steps heavy, and he tried to hide his infinite disappointment with a forced smile.  
A man with dark blonde and chaotic curls approached his sacred space.

Virgil has his lip ring pulled into his mouth where he could chew on it, and he to the inside of his lips until it was sucked in enough for his teeth to play with it.  
He immediately let go, his teeth releasing the Titan and letting the opened ring snap back into place. Right now, talking had a priority over nervously biting his discomfort into unresponsive metal.

''Good day, Sir, may I take your order?'' his usual greeting came out a little flat.  
Virgil had bags under his eyes darker than the eyeliner he had used in an attempt to make his eyes pop and look a little less dead. After all, experience had shown that the tip jar usually ended up more filled whenever he had some makeup on.

It was a superficial, judgmental world.

The blond curly mess shoved his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. The black eyewear framed his tired, dark-yet-soulful steel eyes like portraits as he returned Virgil's exhausted stare.  
The pale skin under his ocean eyes was darkened, and his lips were a faint rose colour. Virgil spotted a few faint freckles, barely darker than the skin of the new costumer's face.

Typical nerd.

The guest spoke up, his voice somewhat deep.  
Something about it reminded him of a curious dog experiencing new territories and strange smells, tail between his legs and ready to run at the first sign of trouble.

Weird.  
But who was he to judge? He had piercings in his face and wore makeup--despite being a guy. He was lucky he got a job in the first place and nobody called him a fag or tried to beat him up or deprive him of his salary.  
He was lucky. He even had a scholarship.  
Maybe he was weird.   
Yes, he had to be the weird one and he still dared to be a prick and judge others despite being the one who should change to be less embarrassing. 

''Good day. Double iced coffee. Dark, please.''

The order was quick and straightforward. It felt classic and oddly fitting despite out of place quirkiness of the person before him.

He nodded and turned to make the coffee at the machine. His skin, looking as if it had been made of olive oil and fresh baked baguette, showed as he pushed his sleeves up enough to have his fingers show.   
The tall man let his right curl around a big plastic cup and he shoveled crushed ice into the big container before he pushed it under the machine.  
He punched in the order so the clueless technology would do its part of the work. Saved him the trouble of doing a more active job.  
He really did not like to work. 

His upper lip pushed over the lower one and his teeth graced over his two lip piercings. This time, there were no favourites as the black plated metal was pulled between his teeth and he caught the titan, then let it go just to latch his teeth onto the half-rings as well and pull at them so much that his pierced through skin nearly hurt with physical abuse.

The black balls of his piercings scraped the insides of his upper teeth as he released the jewellery.

His sun-kissed skin seemed even darker in the dim light of the cafe. He turned back to Logan and quickly dialed some buttons before the cash register ringed again.

''Three, on the point'', Virgil declared and the guest got out his purse to pay the right amount.  
It took him only some moments to get out a ten and hand it over to the barista.  
For a moment, Virgil actually looked over at the guest, really making eye contact for more than a fleeting second. Metal and mahagony met. 

The world was standing still and the lights around them seemed just bright enough to illuminate one another completely. They were exposed with flaws and abilities, with pain and joy and resistance.  
Hearts. Beating and growing together. Their minds seemed to intertwine in a soulful hug, invisible to the eye yet very much tangible for their hearts.  
Time was not running anymore. The colours and sounds around them faded in favour of showing their own true colours and reveal every sound they could and would make.

Logan felt his answer get stuck in his throat and he instinctively put his wallet away.   
He was ready to abscond.  
Never had he once believed in the idiocy that was surrounding the myth of people being chosen to belong together. Not once in his life did he even consider the name on his arm to be of any more meaning but a reference to epic literature.

Virgil Prafure.

It was an odd name. Strange, rare. So provocative. He had suspected the person to be from another country but he could not tell. The person before him seemed just as mysterious as the letters tattooed into his skin.  
But was this a coincidence? Was this really a connection and did he really feel the other's feelings and could he hear his heart beating like he could feel his own organ burst in tired energy. 

Was he just an exhausted fool who had been forced into a marathon of Disney films alike?  
Stay tuned because Mister Science will find out.

''Keep the change'', he spoke quickly.

Virgil nodded, mind absent and gears turning.  
Their eyes were still locked and their hands moved on their own. Money was put away into the usual spots and clamped into the register. Fingers rubbed over the seven bucks in his hands and the worker nodded again. His dry mouth swallowed down his questions and he turned to put the money into the near empty tip jar.

Was it really just the eyeliner? It felt like more, there was more between them. There was more in him.  
Well, whatever it was, his heart did not like it. But that might have been nothing but the missing nicotine and the counter action that had been an extra shot of caffeine in his early morning cup. Yeah, that had to be it.   
Or maybe it was no more but the caffeine slashing into his empty stomach instead of even a little bit of food. All he had eaten in the past four (going on five) days was a few leaves of fresh basil they had at home. He remembered the look of fire and disapproval his girlfriend had given him when he had made breakfast and dared to lay the table with a second plate.  
A common mistake.  
She had given him the sweet, sweet lecture. She was so patient with him, even after weeks and months of dating, she was still ready to let him off the hook easy instead of punishing him like he would deserve to. He knew he was too fat and she constantly reminded him of it whenever they met, when they hugged and when they made love. She would squeeze his upper arms, she would give his stomach a pat and let out these elongated vocalisations when he would join her for cuddles or dared slipping into her lap.  
He was lucky she was so good with him, helped him vomit when he had eaten without explicit permission. He could basically feel her hand sliding down the curve of his back when he hunched over the toilet and hugged the seat for stability in his dizzy spells. She was always there for him.  
He was lucky with her by his side, literally and figuratively.

There was nothing going on. There was no magic no shit no nothing and the only lingering voice he certainly heard in his mind was the echo of the coffee machine groaning and people chattering so loudly, he wanted to rip his ears off.  
He needed to sleep but he had a project due and he needed to beg his professor for an extension. Again. This idiot would lose his scholarship like this. Then all he could be able to do was drop out of schooling and life for good.

Virgil could not afford fucking voices and magic. He needed to work and earn his rent and get his shit done and make his love happy because she really wanted something nice for Valentine's Day and he was the luckiest loser to have her around still despite being in debt and missing his due dates on a daily.  
He had taken extra shifts because his shitty job did not give any Christmas pay like other workers enjoyed. He was basically working full-time yet he was treated like an intern.  
She had been so upset when he had been able to merely afford a little house party with her friends and work colleagues for her birthday. She had cried for hours and he had ended up on the couch he had exchanged for another wave of debt just to make her happy. The door had been locked and only when he negotiated getting her an extra gift instead of his trashy art, she was happy.  
Just more debt. He could not tell her that he would need to stop paying the bills if she wanted another present. But he could also not tell her how much money and how many hours he had invested in the painting he he had made for her. Even his art professor had been pleased. Virgil had considered giving him the painting instead or use it for his portfolio or promotion but he had been too late. When he had been back with a real gift, something paid rather than self-made, she had already sold his work for a few bills and gotten herself a big lunch.  
When he had cried about that, he had lost his food all at once without her helping out (which was a shame ,considering the party had been a rare occasion of him receiving some snacks).

''Thanks''.

Suddenly, Logan's voice was hoarse as if he had been screaming for hours. Maybe he had and he just forgot. All kinds of things happened. He wouldn't be surprised. There were so many thing he had never heard of, so many incredible possibilities he did not know about-

But honestly, right now he just did not know. Anything.

And it scared him.

The barista nodded again and turned his attention back to the coffee after his tip jar was filled up with an additional bit of money.  
He swiftly finished the order, his shaking somewhat alternating between being its worst and also completely gone at the same time.

And then, everything seemed to happen at the same time.

His co-worker was back from his what? Piss break? He returned and made himself some hot tea and poured it into a cup while Virgil retrieved the iced coffee and got a straw and lid ready.   
He put the things together and was done building the order. His hands shoved the business away from him and at the same moment, Logan extended his hands.

Now, what did the Braniac think and why was this important?

Well, whether soulmates existed or not was easily answered. He had seen his parents and his friends fall in love and bond for years and decades, side by side.   
He had witnessed it, he had researched it but he knew that soulmates could go wrong. People whose souls were connected could hate each other, they could be in love like friends or be strangers to one another-  
Sometimes, most times, though, they were each other's love of their life.

Some more research he had done had revealed that there were no records of his soulmate online.   
On another note, he had just expected that maybe, just maybe, his soulmate had changed names because of adoption. Or maybe it was a dead name, perhaps they needed to change it for their own security.  
In the times of social media, everyone had a profile on one of these many platforms. 

But one of the most important things he had learned was that soulmates had different soulmarks. While his was the name of his mate, there were several other soulmarks and indicators to show that you belonged together, as per usual, people who belonged together had the same kind of soulmark in a very similar spot.

While Logan had the feeling settled in his guts that Virgil was the person his mark referred to, there was just one solid way to prove his thesis.  
He needed to see his arm. Arms, actually. It would be the safest to check out both sides just to make sure he did not miss anything.

With this train of thought, Logan did not particularly reach out for the cold cup before him but he as much as rammed his hand into the plastic container.   
Cold, brown bean juice spilled over his and the barista's hands. Crushed ice pieces flew all over the counter and in an attempt at saving himself, Virgil reflexively moved backwards without letting his eyes move from the scene before him.

His back bumped into his co-workers, but it was not just about bumping into him and nearly falling to the floor.   
No.  
No, of course not because Virgil's life was a fucking nightmare. Everything was against him and he felt just how much life was against his wretched ass when near-boiling coffee soaked into his long, black sleeves and the wet fabric immediately stuck to his skin.  
The heat bit into his flesh, eating away at his arm with boiling temperatures. It was an unbearable pain, close to the feeling of being impaled with more and more white hot anger piercing through any layer of his skin.

''Fuck!!'', he yelled out in surprise.  
His face distorted into a mask of anguish and disgust as his glance wandered over the steam that rose from his soaked shirt. 

''Virgil, take it off!'', his colleague screeched and pulled him over to the sick. The tap was turned on and cool water started running over his covered arm.  
The punk sighed in relief but he felt it was not over.

Tears were pricking at his eyes and he could feel his heart thumping so violently it felt like the muscle was trying to escape his rib cage for good.  
It reminded him of his landlord after he failed to pay rent on time for a first. He had been banging against the door so much, he had feared for the wooden plank to finally give in, tired of protecting the cowardice of his actions. If the door has had any soul, it was beaten to death until now. Other than that, he was convinced that not even a soulless piece of dead tree would stand up for him. In that seemingly infinite moment, the door had saved his life. It was still his lifeline, the protective barrier between him and the rest of the world with its society of strict, judgmental eyes. 

Virgil's eyes were glossy from the tears he held back. All his impulse control had left was the hope of relief from the hot burning pain. The cool water soaking into his shirt made his pain somewhat more bearable but at this point, it all felt dull and the pain was seated deeper than just on his arm. It was deeply buried within him. It seemed as if it wrapped around his bones. Maybe it was just an invisible idea of pain that tripped into the space of his arm.  
Was it even his arm anymore?  
He did not know, he did not know anything.  
All he knew and felt was the pain and the rush and the horrible panic his mind limited itself to. If his thinking was a community, it shut itself down and put barricades up just to have a safe space to frantically run up and down the streets while emitting deafening screams of despair.  
Huh, even his mental images of his mind seemed gruesome.

''Fuck'', he cursed again, his lips unstoppable.  
With his mind on lock-down, he at least did not have the psychic capacity to wonder about what other people thought or what they would feel about his shit. Heavens, right now, he did not even consider whether he could lose his job over all this because his reason was closed down for the season of emergency.  
Alarms were started like fires in his neurological connections. It felt as if even his brain was on actual fire.  
''Fuck'', he choked again. It was the most expressive his mind could be when voicing his well-being. Not that there was too much well-being to really talk about. Actually, there was very much none of it. ''Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. Why.''

His voice was a silent hiss competing the continuous sound of numbing water running down his arm.

He heard someone tell him to take off his clothing, and orders and such were shot around the room like loose bullets during an inexperienced heist that got out of control way too fast.

His mind was reeling.  
Slowly, the panic of pain dissolved only to merge into a new hysteria.  
The intense stinging and biting was so old, so many seconds ago that his heart was spitting on the whole ado and spitefully rammed against his rib cage. Maybe he was wrong about that but it seemed like his heart beating so vengefully made his lungs hurt.  
His breathing felt so flat and so... so empty.. No air was really arriving, not any efficient one anyway. It was thin and used and did not give him enough respiration.

Nice.  
This was just short of another tragedy to make this day an even better disaster, honestly.

Lucky enough for him, the gracious hero of all, the panicking man who had caused the whole scene, was by his side by now and cutting the sleeve open.

Fuck, his lap had been attacked too but it was minor and frankly, he had been a really lucky bastard to wear pants that did not really absorb too much water. The apron that covered his torso down to the middle of his thighs with its tight fabric probably did the trick as well.  
Maybe that part of his body would not get fucked up. It did not really hurt but maybe that was the adrenaline. Or the pure focus on his burned arm.

Wow, maybe he had actually been lucky. If you could call one lucky circumstance in a horrible situation within the most horrible life to be an actually lucky thing. Perhaps it was just prolonging the inevitable horror of his existence.  
He did not know.  
His mind was still too busy steaming to consider all of this shit.  
Huh, steaming. Very funny.

The person next to him said something and carefully pulled the cut through sweat shirt sleeve away.  
That was his only piece of clothing his manager had not shot down for this work place. He did not know whether he could afford another one and his paycheck was so far away.

''s-stop'', he breathed out and pulled his arm away.  
How did he have the lung capacity to talk? He did not know but today was full of shitty miracles so maybe that was just adding up.  
''I - I have work''.

The person was taken aback and suddenly his co-worker rushed back in. When did anyone leave?  
''I called the manager! We will get someone to cover for you. The ambulance is on the way.''

The punk felt his breathing stop.  
Stop. Pause. Put on break and twisted backwards.

Say what now?

The empty face of his co-worker shushed the guest away to no avail. Virgil felt himself being tugged over to the break room behind the doors that had this typical ''employees only" sign. It was so cliche but it was also so necessary.  
Stupid people, stupid rules.  
But rules could be nice and protecting sometimes.

The punk kept blabbering about something to do with work.  
He needed to go back.  
Had he not heard the bell? Had he not seen a new costumer?  
He had to make money, he had to get tips. He needed to get his order done. Oh, and he had crushed his co-workers coffee. He would hate him now. Virgil fucked up again. 

He always did.

He had fucked up. Fucked up. 

He had fucked up. He always fucked up, fucked up fucked up fuckedup.

''Breathe, Virgil'', a voice instructed him.

Who?

The world around him seemed so blurry and his body seemed so far away. Everything was out of focus and so strange and somewhat it was darker and lighter than usual. His environment did not look like that. Why did objects stick out so much and how could he still not tell what they were when it seemed so clear, it kind of became razor blurry again.

''I-I can't. I have work, I have courses'', he whimpered in desperation.  
His voice was so thin. So thin, like his wrists were thin.  
If his voice had bones, they would be clearly visible whenever he used it. Audible? His mind did not make any sense anymore.

''I have a deadline'', he repeated, his mind blanking as the realisation hit him.  
His shift was nearly over and he needed to go to his professor and beg for time and another try. He was about to fail, he could not drop out. This degree was nearly complete and he could not afford fucking this up. His scholarship was the only thing that made life bearable.  
His girlfriend would give him so much shit for this. He was a loser and she would finally lose hope in him and leave him because he could not provide for he because he sucked and he was unstable and useless.  
He was the real burden, not her being unemployed because of workplace discrimination.  
Who discriminated against her again? They.. they were both white cis people- What.. he did not know but he believed her, he always believed her because she would never lie to him. In fact, all she said was honest, sometimes brutal but at least direct and clear as acid if not just as hurtful.

Oh he fucked up. He fucked up.  
He would lose her and his job and his scholarship. Just because of a coffee, why had he hold onto this stupid cup. He should have been faster and more aware. How could he not have been aware, he was vigilant. That was even in his name- he was hyper-vigilant even so and he still had managed to fuck up enough to not get this right. He had fucked up, it was his fault.

His fault, his fault only. He always fucked up. He deserved to be left alone and abandoned. He deserved it. He had fucked up.

Virgil squirmed as he felt some dull sensation press into him. It felt so distant yet something firm about it seemed to almost be comforting. Water was running down his arms again. The stream was slow and cool.  
It was the same as before but in a more private setting, probably to have less pairs of eyes stare into the mess Virgil had caused.

It took him a while to acclimate and realize that the room looked much different than the location he had been in before.   
Odd. So odd. He had not moved, he knew he had been moved but he did not feel as if he had changed anything at all. Not a location, not his body. Nothing, really.

"No", he repeated and he squirmed further. The stranger trapped him between the sink and his own body.

In his mind, the only work he could hear was "work". He had to get back to work and finish and then meet his professor and present his project because he was done. He was actually done enough to hand it in and get a decent grade without failing this course.   
It was not like failing the course was a problem anyway, he reminded himself. For some reason, he had decent grades - only soiled by the dirty record of breaking through ever deadline that has ever existed in the world.  
He had been ahead of his birth - the one and only time he had ever been early and even then he had crashed the expectations others had in him.

Honestly, he nearly believed he would miss his own death or something. He was so busy trying to work for others or make someone happy or hand in his notes and do some project for them and meet all these demands. Fulfil all these requirements, that was his goal.  
He had to.   
There was no other way. If he did not get this done, he would not be able to graduate and get a decent job with good pay and a stable contract so he could provide for his family.   
If he did not get this shit together, his only good relationship would break into pieces like the ice cubes that had been crushed for all these cool beverages he usually made from day to night.

Huh, somehow it was still funny to him that he could oversleep his own death because he was perpetually tired from overworking himself and running from one burning fire to another to put up with everyone's requests.  
Somehow, he was never good enough. He was a weak yet constantly dropping sachet of water over a fire and he kept shedding some liquid into the burning abyss. However, he was certain that at some point, the flames would catch up to him and dry his insides out, have his liquid evaporate and eat him alive with bright flames catching and tearing at him.

''I need to work, get off'', he repeated again.  
Up until now, his worries had been twirling him into a horrible dizziness and he surely did not felt anything but the irregular thumping of his heart.  
It was probably knocking on heaven's door. Begging for relief and such. But Virgil was too busy for that, he had no time for panic and his heart and whatever else bullshit.

''Virgil'', the person spoke and a sudden shudder overcame him.

It worked like magic because the words flew through his wind and seemed to sweep his hurricane of thought away with the simple blink of an eye or the draw of a breath.  
It was simple. It was most natural.  
And it was frankly the most confusing he had ever been in a sober state.

He looked up, eyes open as much as his mind was blank.  
The punk was met with the intensity of a steel blue, he thought was a joke made by the art industry when they gave their funny names to different shades of colours. To be honest, steel blue had always been something like a personal favourite. Destiny seemed to laugh into his face. It was his favourite and it had him left in a state of being so out-of-himself that he had forgotten himself and his world.  
Now there he was.What had his favourite gotten him into? 

He stared over at the extension of his torso.  
It felt so strange to him, like a prosthesis clicked into his system but never having been a part of him before. It was not a replacement, it was just something so new that did not belong to him.

''I am okay'', he tried again.  
The barista did not even hear how droopy and choked his voice seemed to the outer world. Then again, everything seemed foggy and generally unusual to him.  
He did not really care, to be honest. He was just confused. 

This voice.. this blue.. they were all he could see.  
His whole body, his entire existence seemed so odd to him like he had never been aware of how weird Being was before. But these eyes.. this colour and the sound of a deep yet angelic voice seemed to be in his soul.  
He did not perceive these things with his senses but with his soul.

''You are not, please stay where you are'', the guest instructed.  
He barely saw the orbs move away and the owner of these soulful body mirrors seemed to move again. The silhouette was cut out from the rest of Virgil's background. It felt like these funny camera modifications of blurring out all that was not in focus.  
Huh-  
Funny.

So, essentially, the curly-hair stranger was his focus now? He could not really complain but he did not exactly have the capacity to flirt yet alone be groomed by some rando. He had a monogamous relationship with his Logan, sweet and lovely neighbourhood darling Logan Berry.  
She was a beloved daughter but an only child, other than Virgil.  
Despite their differences and how much she teased him about his bad habits like eating a whole plate or sleeping in when he could, the two loved each other and had been together for a while.  
She was the light of his life. Whenever he saw her muddy brown eyes, he saw the sun-lit skin of trees and the calm life of slugs.

His thought continued flying in a tornado of nonsense.

Without her, he would have studied something funny like nothing at all or maybe had gotten into the cinema branch.  
Who knew? He was a pretty salty bitch and loved giving harsh reviews with criticism he did not know how to fix but was quick to point out.  
He had an eye for weakness, after all, he had been his worst nightmare of being a miserable weak spot all his life. At least this could have given him the opportunity to wake the best of his flaws.

But she knew better and honestly, being an artist made him happy too. It just also gave him a lot of anxiety and pressure.

Sometimes he wanted to drop out but what else was he supposed to do? He had gotten into a scholarship, yet again, with Logan's help, because his little loganberry was always by his side.

Man, his thoughts were so weird. They seemed to just flow into him like the water flowing over his burned arms.  
He could hear the ticking of a clock in the background. When he looked at the side, he could spot a timer running. The stranger’s phone, possibly.

''Cant..'', he whispered but the other did not seem to care and carefully pressed him back into his position.

''Virgil, please do me the favour. This whole endeavour is my fault in the first place. I want to make sure I can give you adequate care until the ambulance takes over'', he explained calmly.  
His voice was so nice...

''Who.. wh-'', he mumbled softly and curled into himself but once more, his action was discarded as mere attempt when the guest softly tugged him into a more comfortable position, ''what is even your name..?''

"Logan", the other spoke and Virgil's mind started twitching and churning in sickness.   
That.. That couldn't be.   
I believe I'm your soulmate, Virgil. I do have your name on my arm ", Logan explained to him. 

Virgil only dignified the action with another groan but there wasn't any more he felt like saying. Not that he had chosen to make any sounds in the first place but sometimes things just happened.   
His body has betrayed him already with all this weakness that made him unable to keep working even though he had to.   
He needed to, indeed! 

The nerd went on, his voice twitching and wiggling line the wagging tail of a puppy facing a treat.   
"I felt it when - when our eyes met and the world. Virgil, the world seemed like it was standing still! Can you believe it?" 

Now, even his fate kicked him in the butt. Well, it was less of this. A kick to his lazy butt usually was a thing his actual soulmate and girlfriend did to him whenever he slacked off and thought he could manage to spend money on this nice concert he had dreamed to go to. Or when he intended to buy that crushing album by his favourite band.   
But she was always right because she knew better. She always knew when people were about to back-stab him or when they were lying and mean. She knew what he could and couldn't afford and what the good investments in life were.

She was his fate and she would only ever hurt him in the short-term to protect him in the long run.  
This. This was different and it was only about seeing whether he was really loyal to her but he was and he would do his best to show it.

Logan, on the other hand...well, he seemed to feel strongly about this, like Virgil. But his feelings turned into a more romanticised version of events.

"And and", he continued and smiled, his lips twitching upwards, "I have never believed in soulmates. Not really, not for me. Virgil, I thought my mark had been a mistake and that this was just some weird magical superstition but I felt it. I felt us! I could feel you as if you have always been a part of me!" 

But his fate said that it was all wrong. His fate said he had one of these people as soulmate. The string connected to his would seemed to ask for both or nine of them.   
Why was there no last name to this mark? Why did he have an ambiguous mark like that? 

Whatever. 

He was sick and the voice making him dizzy and pushing the truth into him only made him want to puke and cry.   
Virgil didn't deserve it. 

"You're not." 

He wasn't gay.   
He wouldn't date this guy. He knew that this was bullshit and some sort of crazy thing. Fate was fucking with him. His hallucinations were fucking with him but it certainly wasn't his soul being attached to a guy like that. 

" I'm dating someone. I've got Logan. We're together, we're dating - we.. We", he started but his voice rushed further and further. Virgil nearly forgot about oxygen when his pace picked up even more.   
"You and I aren't soulmates. This is bullshit." 

He moved his arm away, out of reach from Logan's careful touches. The curious fingertips were abandoned and he curled his arm around himself as if in a half hug.   
The punk was protecting his gut or maybe he just tried to absorb the pain of his arm into his body if he just pressed the limb enough into him. 

His burns missed the cooling sensation of the water and he commented on his pain with a vague hiss. Virgil willingly retreated his arms to let the water immerse his injuries once more.  
Better.  
The corner of his lips moved to one side, letting his jewellery shift along. His bottom lip popped out a bit as if to pout but all he could muster up were scornful, bitter words.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You must be confused or whatever. I don't really care. You fucking ruined my mark, the mark of me and my girlfriend's love and you think I'm gonna laugh and suck it up and jump into your fucking arms or what?  
You think life is like that? It's bullshit. This is all fucked up, cracked up, dirty shit and I've got no idea what the fucking shit you ran into but I'm not your soulmate, I never will be and you have to leave right now, you-you life destroyer. "

The student nodded.   
His head said acceptance but his face looked like he had lost the battle of battles, the one that should have decided the war.   
And now he was standing there, having lost his youth and life and all his vitality for the sake of a fight he had ended before it had started.   
He was disarmed and caught, but then spit out again because he wasn't even good enough to be kept as a trophy or to make an example out of his humiliation of believing in hope and soulmarks. 

Magic had failed him. He.. He shouldn't have.   
The unfamiliar warmth, that had crept into him when Virgil's and his eyes had met, faded from his heart and disappeared into thin air like the faint smell of pleasant vanilla.   
Light, easy. Great yet so easily under-appreciated or dismissed.   
And he had lost it. 

"And for your information, I'll probably fail my deadline with that fucking ambulance you called up. Great job. If you're so desperate for love, you better try out some fucking online dating. I'm not your guy" 

Logan nodded. Again. It was all he could do. After all he had done, after all he had caused it was almost a good joke to see that he was so powerless right now.

He started walking away until he heard another groan.   
His heart was aching and life seemed to lose colours before him.   
Hope was stinging in his eyes and laughing at his face with mean hands that teared at his skin, his heart. 

"If my arms wasn't fucking burned because of you, I'd fucking give you a nice mark of mine", Virgil hissed to himself and sat up. 

As Logan excused himself from the room. Phone in hand, timer ticking as twenty minutes of cooling time had run out, the ambulance rushed in.   
At least some people could be of constructive use by now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the aftermath. From Virgil's and from Logan's side.

***

It had taken hours and Virgil was back at home, at last. Hospital bill and a doctor's slip in his hands, he knew he had to try and at least message his professor again and tell him about his accident.   
Maybe that could be enough for making this clear and getting his art back into the play so he could ace this depressing course. 

It was pressure to no end and he didn't know whether he enjoyed the dulling pain of rushing and brushing and colouring again and again and more and like this and that. This was mass-produced art at most but it wasn't his heart-felt pain of life, it wasn't the joy of his giggling heart or the hope in his curious mind. 

The project was another painting, another photograph. It said "replicate this" and "interpret that" or "to be inspired by".   
Bullshit too. But he did what he had to do do. 

Maybe it was fine. 

He quickly unlocked the door.   
Or tried to, at least. The door wasn't locked. It wasn't even closed. The old plank was just there, vaguely resting against the door frame and leaving enough space for his right hand to slip in and pry the door away from its little slumber curled up against its frame. 

His home was dark.   
No Logan, no nothing. Not even lights.   
Weird, usually she would be at home and do her nails or talk to a friend. It sounded cliché but she was busy so she did many things as once. 

Well, maybe she was late. He was late too. She had been taking extra shifts and worked after hours and such because the company had made a lot of pressure.   
He really should make her some food so she could relax when going home. 

He could not help and fear the darkness was another unpaid bill he had forgotten about in his storm of obligations. The uncountable amounts of hands pulling and tearing at him to get his attention and have him finish all the issues that needed fixing - all these things caused him to fail at life every now and then.  
However, he was sure he had paid this. Or Logan did. But he had been there and they had paid December and November together.

Virgil's arm was still hurting and his heart was stinging like something was ripped out of him but he really wanted to make her happy.   
She deserved that.   
She deserved more than he was anyway but he would always try his best to make up for it so she would never have to regret. So she would never have to think someone was much better and more suitable than he was.  
There was plenty anyway.

He moved his uninjured arm to touch the light switch and he flipped it. His movement was casual and nonchalant as always. It was a usual business to turn on the light and make sure he could see something but apparently, the lights did not the the same.  
The familiar 'click' sound echoed through the emptiness of his blank mind as the switch was flipped yet the darkness remained. The absence of light imposed itself onto his vision and it merely took a few more moments to get his phone out and turn on the torch so he could see something.

Shit, he must have forgotten to pay the bills again. Fuck, fuck. He needed to fix this. If Logan saw that, she would get really mad and he could not handle cleaning up after the messes of her tantrums. He did not have the time and his aching heart was not in the state to handle another break.

But he was sure they had paid it. He had been so sure of it.

His.. that was stupid, he was not heartbroken. He was not affected by some silly stranger showing up and getting their soulmarks mixed up.

The audacity to force his desperate ass onto others was something Virgil would never understand. His Logan was markless but he knew that some soulmark would develop later like when people marry and he just felt it in his head that they belonged together.  
He knew it. He felt it. It was a truth he believed in.

Whatever.

Virgil quickly dropped his bag on the kitchen table and rushed to get some candles. 

Digital torch in his hands and fingers floating around the drawers, he quickly pulled out some candles and spread them around the kitchen, as he lit them up. One by one, there was a little source of warmth and light filling the room.  
Just in case this winter would have to be spent without heating as well, these candles would sort of work like a little campfire or a fireplace. ... rather a fireplace. They lived in a rental flat anyway and the fire alarm would instantly go off when there was an actual fire in their room.

Actually, this was kind of romantic. Maybe Logan would like that. After all, she kept saying that together, they made the best out of the worst and it somehow worked out every time.  
He loved it.  
His mouth twitched into a little smile and the light ultimately reached up to his face. His mind curled up to rest in the warmth and soothingly calm light of the candles surrounding him.

Virgil tended to the stove.  
Huh, that seemed to work. Well, it was a gas-driven apparatus anyway. 

He quickly got a pot and some food ready.  
What could he cook, what should he make... They did not have so much food. Well, dang. He needed to go get some food tomorrow morning before class. He could just get up at five and it would be fine. Logan needed to rest after a hard day at work, especially if she has had to work into late at night like right now.

As Virgil started cutting up some vegetables, his mind had settled on the idea of making some nice chicken soup. They only had some frozen meat for it but it would be fine. Logan did not like meat anyway and it was just good enough for him.   
It did not have any frost bites so it was fine. Only the best for his dear sweetcheeks.

As he chopped up the food, he felt his mind wander. Maybe creep and slither was the more appropriate term at the moment but that felt of little significance at the moment.

Did he not pay rent for the two and Logan handled the bills?   
Sure, they both had their names on it but her bank account was connected to do the payments so he would not have to worry about that.  
She was just too nice. She always allowed him to be a little late with the payment because he bought the food and provided rent. And also cooked. He really wanted to make up for his delays and all the unreliability he tainted the relationship with.

In his confusion he had dearly forgotten about all this. How could he had forgotten that he did not pay the utility bills?

...Logan usually paid on time. What had happened? Was she okay? Maybe someone had hacked her account and emptied out her money and now they were both in debt and had trouble handling the big apartment together.  
Oh fuck, what if-

No. No.  
He should not think like that. Logan hated when he did that and she would yell at him to stop and she was right about that because he would just start shaking and crying and he would do the ugly snapping.  
Nobody deserved to be snapped at. He had even snapped at the guy Logan and while he had been a fucking dick, he had not deserved to be snapped at.  
Virgil... He had just been so angry at people invalidating his relationship and feelings all the time and he was so so done over this prejudice of dating a markless.  
Countless people had markless people as soulmates! The marks were often just delayed or worked with one-side only, as well!

He felt the darkness creep into his heart again.  
None of this.   
None.

He should just text Logan and ask her about the bills and then call their provider and tell them he would pay the next opportunity he had! It would be fine, people were usually so nice when you just talked to them and if not then,.. then they could get candles and it would be fine and nice and they needed to sleep more anyway and artificial light was bad for the mood, right?

He felt his throat feel like someone started choking him and he took a deep yet shallow breath.

His hand quickly got to the phone and he typed a little message to his dear.

This message could not be delivered.

Huh?  
Curious. Why would that happen?

Well, maybe there were some server issues or something. Nothing too great to worry about. Sometimes that happened with the best messengers. He should just try another one or maybe a simple text message so she knew that the lights were out.  
Was it all electricity or just the lights? He did not even know and he had a generally bad feeling biting at his guts like acidic bile burning into him. He just did not dare let it get the best of him in the sanctity of their home where Logan cared so much for him.

He carefully arranged the soup basis and made sure to set the stove to as low as he could possibly get so nothing would burn or overcook.

The punk picked up his phone again - his little torch - and went to get his things he had abandoned on the kitchen table.  
Maybe he should call her?

Well, first things first were mailing his doctor so he quickly unpacked his slip and send it to his professor with a quickly apology and explanation.  
He was still smiling but his lips felt strained and the excitement in his heart was so bare, so stripped and exposed that he felt as if this was.. not quite it. It did not reach him the trembling of novelty did not reach up to him or his heart and the electricity delighting his body was so far away.

He looked at the time. the clock already read 7pm. Odd. Just odd. Usually Logan would have texted him demands of certain meals and some questions about whether he was still in his course or had failed.  
The usual.  
But there was nothing still and that was more than confusing to him.

He bit the insides of his mouth, his teeth trapping the flesh between them before he bit threw and swallowed the tiny bits of rosy meat he cursed his own.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, something was wrong. It was wrongwrongwrong!!

His restless fingers pushed the phone around in his grip and pushed against the touchscreen, his empty taps selecting Logan's contact again and again but the screen did not accept his attempts. A part of him felt calmed down by the barrier between him and her but he loved her and he was worried and he wanted to know whether she was okay or whether something had happened to her.

Eventually, it worked and he carefully withdrew his hand to his head and trapped the device with the cracked screen between his fingers and his ear.  
The familiar sounds of ringing were missing out and instead, his natural funnels had to be pestered with the usual ''The person you are trying to call is unavailable at this moment''.  
His heart cracked and he could nearly hear the tears falling from is eyes and crashing down onto his heated cheeks.  
Virgil lowered the phone and caught sight of a piece of paper his torch had shone onto.

There was a single note and the curved letters in big black ink of ballpoint pens just screamed Logan to him.  
He picked it up, his hands still shaking as if he had spent an entire night outside with the temperatures in the negative.   
As far as he knew, the cold temperatures made the body cold and the shivering was a protective mechanism the body started instinctively in order to give as much movement as possible so the burned energy would be converted to heat and warm up the body, possibly saving it.

Right now, his own shaking just made him sick or maybe it was the sight of letters that looked so wobbly and blurry through his thick,wet tears.

''Found my soulmate. Got my mark. It is not you. Do not contact me, loser.''

Virgil barely knew words or sights as he blindly marched through their apartment to look for the void she had left when she took all her things away. Most of the furniture was missing, even the bed was gone and not even a mattress was left behind.  
The couch was gone.. all.. all.. There was merely the bathroom furniture left and some of his products. If you could call liquid soap a product but it would have to do from now on. then..then all else there was left in the apartment and his heart was the depressing light of candles and the devastating Virgil who curled himself up under the kitchen table.

Well, there was also a closet.

There had always been a closet in his life. Every night the closet around him had teasingly spread its doors for him to see the sweet outside world of coming out but he had never done it and he never would. It was comfortable in the sorrow of his own tears and the snot running down his miserable face. He was safe in the world of messy clothing and abandonment.

He was safe because he was used to it.

And there was nobody to change a thing about it.

..It was not fair...

His phone popped with a notification and he saw another message having arrived.  
Maybe Logan had changed her mind? It would not take away the hurt from being called a loser. The word still seemed to shove him into imaginary lockers that did not exist in the empty loft of his heart but they were there, deeply buried under the heavy blankets of his heart.

No, even the last bit of hope was dying down on him.

''I am sorry but you missed the last extension of your deadline. You'll have a failing grade for the semester with a missing project.''

He sobbed and his heart was but a mess of shatters around him. His fingers were too shaky and slippery with the tremors of his pain and the damp liquid of his tears.

He had to .. to move out... to.. to turn off the stove

''Why..''

He curled up under the safety of the table. It protected him. It was all he had right now.  
His hands gripped the light material of his worn out, patched up jacket.

Why did fate mess with him so much?

He merely felt bitter sobs and chokes for air being replaced by the hysterical insanity of insomnia paired with famine taking over his system and making him laugh a horribly distraught sound of gruesome horror.  
There was no happiness in his laugh, there was not a single thing that identified it as an expression of laughter or joy for that matter. Only the mere idea of imitating this sacred display of emotion qualified his torn, terrible shrieks as alterations between manic laughter and ear-piercing wailing sobs.

He lost it all. Even his mind.

***

Logan stepped into his shared flat. Logan and Adam (or Ada, depending on the time and date and the given indications or less subtle clarification) were living together but sometimes Patton, its boyfriend, would come over and the two were shamelessly.... passionate about each other. So to speak.

Today, sadly, had been one of these days and Logan in his asexual glory could not help but shriek at the sight of his roommate and its partner trying to somewhat impale one another or whatever, The sight of strange genitals burned into him and the nerd quickly made his way over to his room while the couple minded their own business.  
He heard Patton's little protests, her voice soft and nearly comforting but they soon turned into loud, drawn out moans. Logan could see the two move together, naked skin of dark and light tones wrapping around one another and merging into one.

EW.  
Ew. ew, ew ew ew ew ew.

He slammed his room door behind him and quickly slammed the door shut. For some reason, he had expected the others to sleep after this film marathon but they were not asleep and he was sick, so sick and oh fuck.  
Sometimes, he forgot how averse he was to all of this..this stuff.. His skin was crawling and shivers of disgust were running up and down his body.

The nerd was curled up on himself, before he slid down with his back pressed against the solid wood. He was hugging himself as his body contracted painfully and he felt bile burning at the back of his throat.  
In a brief moment of clarity (due to nothing but being used to these sensations ganging up on him),he reached forward to catch his black plastic bin and hug its rim before he emptied his body into the nearly empty bag within it.

His disgust was quickly spewed into the container and he had the great mind and heart to tie up the bag and place it at the end of his room so he could get rid of the horrible contents the moment he would exit his room.  
He was not sure but Logan felt that the love-struck couple would take some more moments together to be extra affectionate in the commons.

No, no. He could not go back to think about all of this. It would just make him sick.

Still, why did they have to do it right there? They knew he was more than just grossed out by the plain idea of such acts. He had honestly reacted like that before because he just was not that type of ace to be cool about sex. 

Ugh.

He felt his energy drain.   
Now that his belly was emptied out and his body had moved in all possibly harmful and torturous ways, he felt the lack of caffeine and the missing hours of sleep from the past night rain down onto him. His body felt wet and heavy like a sack of stones being dumped into chlorine-stinking water.

Everything was gross and he just wanted this to be over.  
What exactly? He did not know.  
Right now, the idea of taking a small break of life and feelings sounded like the most genius invention he had ever heard of.  
And he kept track of the science magazine all the time!

The student decided to take control of what he could change. It would be, as always, rather literal so he made sure to undress his body completely and vest himself in more clean and silky clothing.  
A shower would be due as soon as the room was cleared. He just hoped for Patton giving him a heads up about it because she was this kind of caring person.  
It was a pure wonder she had not yet knocked at his door but he appreciated the time for him to arrive and adjust to.. this day.

Changing was slow and it seemed to drag out the last bit of energy that tickles his finger tips but once he had dressed himself in more casual clothing, he was sure everything was just a bit more bearable.  
He set his glasses aside and took a sip of his water that he always kept next to his bed just in case he would get thirsty in the middle of the night. With his all-nighters and tendencies to stay up in the stubbornness to finish all he had started in one go, this happened much more often than it was probably healthy.

He curled up on bed this time and pulled out his journal so he could write down the events of his day and evaluate them. Many people had advised him to spill his thoughts onto skin rather than just keep them bottled up or worse than that, use his favourite coping mechanism.

Encapsulation - it was essentially about the separation of experiences and the feelings related to these in order to be able to calmly store these as memories and be able to report them as factually as possible.  
Personally, he did not see it as a bad way of managing himself but people told him he had the tendency to snap at others and honestly, he very much felt more anger and “sass” sitting in his bones right after this day.

So, sitting down and writing down the events so he could feel into them and then bury it all forever.. that would be how he would deal with himself until emotions would finally start to make sense to him.

His fingers started writing already, starting with the previous night and the film marathon but his mind kept screaming at him.

He probably would be more comfortable with sex if he had a soulmate, he probably would feel more if he felt loved for a change. Logan would probably be more open to his own experience and pain if he knew someone to share it with, unconditionally.  
Before he knew it, his precious notebook was stained in darkening drops of water. His face was cold and apathetic as always as the tears ran down his impartial face.  
The tears kept falling and falling and his breathing was so calm and so scarily whole. 

This was not normal. He was not normal.  
He did not deserve a soulmate. He was probably rejected because he did not know how to handle humans, because he was awkward and sucked at social interaction.

His face trembled and wrinkles fell into his skin, pulling at his head and pushing a aching heat into him as exchange. The liquid was still floating like a silent stream of molten ice from the mountains. But by now, the sobs wretching his throat and ripping through his lungs seemed far more attention-demanding than his tears.   
Those were independent. The tears knew what they were doing and they did not need Logan but these sobs, they were scary.

Logan curled up again and hugged his legs against his chest.  
It hurt and he could not breathe but he wanted this he.. he.. he could not bear having his knees away from him because it was just too much. He could not handle any more distance, any more rejection and humiliation.   
Today had been too much.

He felt shivers wreck through his body and his hold onto his knees became tighter, bruising, nearly.  
Logan just wanted to feel.

He did not hear the careful knocks of Patton's caring hands before some called out for him.

''Logan, I am coming in now'', she called and Ada(m) was right on her heels to follow in. The two engulfed him with their fresh smells of a refreshing, cleansing shower.  
The sex and body sweat was gone.  
Patton was so nice...Patton was so considerate.

''Logiebear, my dear, what is wrong'', she asked and Ada(m) carefully patted his knee while Patton pulled his head gently into her lap and carefully brushed through his hair.  
The touch felt so caring, it just made him cry harder. His hand curled around the soulmark on his arm and he opened his mouth just to sob out in frustration again.

''I lost him'', he breathed eventually. His chords pushed the words out of his body and he hastily took more erratic breaths to calm his trembling lungs.  
''V-Vi-...Virgil'', he stuttered as explanation and Patton's worry-knitted wrinkles eased into the blank realisation.

Oh no.

More sobs could be heard but Logan was clearly unable to do any more talking than he had already forced himself into.  
Adam (at least Patton had called it so in front of him) had spoken some ambiguous words of perspective-related wisdom and its girlfriend produced more little reassurances.

Logan had allowed himself to feel and he now he paid the price for having all these emotions welling up inside of him.

But deep inside, Logan knew that the moment he had tried to reach out for Virgil, he had not just destroyed his soulmark but also much more. And deeper inside, he knew that Virgil had stepped away from him after he had tried to deliver his order because soulmates or not..

Not every soulmate was a datemate.  
Especially not if your name was Logan.


End file.
